by

Morph 3: The “No Drug Use” Rule

One evening in “class”, a fellow “student” casually mentioned smoking pot. A “teacher” sternly told him, “You do know that smoking pot is against ‘THE RULES’.” Given her admonishment, I assumed that “school” considered drug use an avoidance of doing “the first line work, or work on the self”.

Needless to say, when a corroborator shared this next bit, I thought, I must share this on the blog (it’s also great source material for the musical that I’m going to write one day, “School” — My Five Years in a Cult):

“ … in 2000 Sharon asked, first her son, and then someone else (after he left) to procure hash for the teachers to smoke at the Christmas party. Some kind of cannabis product was present at teachers’ meetings thereafter.”

Recently, some fellow new-millennium disgruntled(s) confirmed that Boston-branch “teachers” keep the  tradition of “teaching” while toasted alive. Before “classes” our “teachers” hid in the “teacher’s lounge”. A few privileged and trusted servants delivered the aristocracy food and beverage Downton Abbey style. Once upon a time, I had imagined the royalty planning the evening’s secret esoteric teaching in that room, perhaps meditating and praying together. Instead, I guess, they were gossiping and consuming libations; perhaps some were rolling joints and blowing enlightened smoke rings before making a grand appearance in the “classroom”.

“Class” always unfolded via the same bi-weekly ritual: we waited in the “classroom” silently, reverently, for a “teacher”; eventually, either “teacher” Michael would appear and announce, “Time for TAI CHI.”, OR “teacher” Paul would appear and announce “Time for BODY WORK.” We few, we proletariat, would dutifully file into another room to either, follow Michael through the tai chi form, or “move every part of our body in circles” on Paul’s instruction. Once we plebs were sufficiently “relaxed” the “teacher” would send us silently padding into the “classroom”. There we would await (in silence, of course) the grand entrance of whomever was heading the evening’s lesson — don’t leak, no unnecessary talking, no fraternizing!

After several minutes of silence, a more highly evolved being would stroll in and take his/her seat at the front of the room. Usually, that “teacher” would announce, “Let’s read self observations.” We would kill a good first hour, or so, reading out of our “self-observation notebooks”, essentially confessing our sinful, broken, dysfunctional, coarse and heavy thoughts and/or “negative emotions.”

Academic cult researchers reveal this routine as typical cult techniques. The “body work” and/or tai chi are hypnotic devices that make the “student body” more susceptible; the reading of “self observations” convenient confessions so leadership could hone in and utilize our weaknesses towards the higher purpose of world domination… “Oh, my Grandma, what big teeth you have!” … ” The better to eat you with, my dear!” Humiliation, and fear of humiliation, proved a very effective social engineering tool within the hallowed halls. I guess you would have to be inebriated to justify this manipulation as necessary for “evolution” year after year.

In thinking about drug use in “school”, I remembered a scene from early in my tenure.  As a newbie, or “younger student” (“school” was still courting me at this phase) a fellow “classmate” escorted me to a “class outside of class” — another brand of “all-night-school-party”. The drug-free magic of the evening had me giddy with wonder, a true believer, but my euphoria was briefly interrupted. An “older student” and “teacher” stopped to chat with me; as they zealously expounded on the benefits of “school” and how happy they were for me , an unmistakeable pot smell permeated and circled us. When they walked away, the cloud did too. I felt confused and disappointed; but — as was typical — then I thought, “They must know something that I don’t know about smoking pot.”

It’s amazing to now see how quickly I dismissed my doubts and blinded myself to these inconsistencies; I really wanted to believe in “school”!

Morph 2: The Non Fraternization Policy
Morph 3: Drug Use
Morph 4: Recruitment, or “Making New Friends”

by

Morph 4: Recruitment or “Making new friends!”

When it comes to morphing, recruitment invites a veritable potpourri of creative cult contortions. It’s risky! A “school” recruiter must be “awake!”. How else would it continue to save lost souls, keep the wheels spinning and increase profits without exposing the invisible world?

“School’s” recruitment machine sucked me in after about two years of tenure; at that point the leadership must have deemed me appropriately indoctrinated. (Learn the cult’s five-step recruitment process here: How to “Join” a Cult, re-post and  here: Cult Education – A History and Analysis of Sharon Gans Group.)

Recruitment-rule morphing plays out in various ways…

THE WHERE TO RECRUIT: During my first pass at the “third line of work”, we were to go out and talk to Boston area grocery-store shoppers, coffee drinkers, parents at playgrounds, co-workers, friends, fellow commuters, etc. etc. etc., anywhere and everywhere. Make new “friends!” You never know where the next generation of seekers may be! Turn over every stone!

But at times, “school” declared various neighborhoods off limits: in Cambridge, Harvard Square, Central Square and Porter Square — easily the most frequented areas; in Somerville, the ever-popular Davis Square; Arlington Center, also off limits. Apparently evil “disgruntled ex-students” frequented these town centers and would interrupt recruitment-in-process. A corroborator told me that  corporate headquarters also declared hot spots over the years …

“ … no recruiting in the Village in New York because S and I lived there; at another point all of New York City south of 14th street was off limits…”

THE WHO SHOULD RECRUIT: Because of the danger and sensitive nature of this “third line of work”, it’s best to send out the most experienced troops. Yet recruitment is critical to “THE WORK” and — at times — like say after a critical mass of “students” leave simultaneously — “school” must have all hands on deck.

Another “disgruntled ex-student”,  circa 1990, told me this…

“When I joined, no new student recruited – this was a ‘very special third line of work’ and you had to be really advanced to be asked to do it — we thought. There was a small group of people on this, including a couple of newbies, who had great success and were in favor and advancement because of it (although we didn’t know that at the time).

When the recruitment success stopped, so did the favoritism and the punishment begin! The small group technique went on for years – about 14 people or so, led by a teacher, who had ‘permission’ to socialize in the name of the line of the work -‘Go do fun things together! Go to a play, go to concerts, talk to people! It’s normal …”

The Boston branch tries to rope all students into the “third line of work” or “work for ‘school”. Once you’ve attended long enough, “school” deems you “ready” — a privilege, “necessary for one’s evolution”! Without contributing to “school”, YOU WON’T EVOLVE. Congratulations! You are now ready to neglect your outside relationships even more to recruit “younger students”!  (By the way, “school” NEVER used the word recruit).

I recall Saturday morning meetings: 7 a.m., at a Watertown park. We discussed tactics, our progress and/or lack thereof; our recruitment coaches allayed our objections about the deceptive practice, offering justification for the “clever insincerity”: “School’s” invisibility must be maintained! Remember what a poor slob you were before you encountered “school”! You might meet the poor soul who can reverse global warming and simply needs “help” to do so … blah, blah, blah.

I hated it, but I complied, thinking myself lazy; I needed to “work against my pictures of myself”, I believed. But the practice stirred a revealing cognitive dissonance inside me — my anger at my recruiter, Lisa, started bubbling up … I hadn’t signed up for this. I’d joined an informal group that “discussed ideas … laughed a lot … one in which people came and went, casually…”  I hated myself for practicing the same deception on other unsuspecting souls; the pretense of “making new friends” made my skin crawl.

Simultaneously, though, my “school” stupor reminded me how I’d “benefited from school”. Pat “school” phrases played out in my mind– others are seeking enlightenment! It’s selfish to keep the answers from those seekers. I must be in the dreaded and evil states of “internal considering” and identification (“school”-speak for selfishness) — I am worrying about how my recruits will feel about me when they learn of my convenient omission of cult-ic details. Needless to say, I wasn’t very successful. I once recruited a friend, who I pried out after I left. He returned only once to spread the word to his colleagues, spurring a mass exodus (read about the Great Escape here).

After leaving the ranks, I learned that some “students” simply refused to recruit; some pretended to do it and lied about their efforts. When I think about how earnest I was in my attempts to do something that rubbed every cell in me the wrong way, it makes me laugh to know that I could have simply said, “No. Not doing that. Good luck to you.” In my mind, saying “no” to a “school” demand wasn’t an option.

THE WHO TO RECRUIT: Another “disgruntled”, circa 1990, told me this recently:

“… you couldn’t recruit anyone with relatives in the military, the police, any type of para military organization such as firemen; this list was built up — when I first started recruiting it was just military, reporters and cops, or anyone who had relatives in these organizations. And you had to find this shit out!

Also the income level kept rising – when I joined there was a low level because I only made $30,000 a year. By the time I left it was up to $45,000 and it is apparently higher now.

When I “joined” Robert told me that “school” wouldn’t deny its “education” to someone simply due to lack of finances. Perhaps this was because, at the time, I was temping at a whopping $15 an hour; for some reason, he decided to dismiss the income requirement — perhaps “school” was desperate for new blood. But when I began “making new friends” a recruitment coach urged me to find out more about a potential recruits finances. This “new friend” clearly had plenty of money. I briefly snapped out of my stupor long enough to disregard that “instruction” … thankfully, I was disturbed by it. After leaving, I heard that $60,000 is the current required income. Perhaps someone out there can comment on this.

THE HOW TO RECRUIT: another “disgruntled”, circa 1990, nodded to an oft-used common cult recruitment practice, that “school” has taken on: “lectures”, or “presentations”.

“… I was there when they started the lectures, and then they put everyone onto recruiting because they just weren’t getting new people. They had ridiculous aims like 100 new people in a month, then they would punish everyone, but what the hell. I left before they figured it out – seems they did because I learned later that they built up quite a large rotating class, which met entirely separately from everyone else and was never troubled with Sharon, or third line, or anything else, so they stayed. Eventually they might be integrated into the bigger older class.”

During my tenure the “lectures” morphed into “presentations”. Every time someone slipped and used the word “lecture” during a “class discussion” several devoted “school” doobies would correct the offender: “You mean presentation, don’t you???” Perhaps the “lectures” were getting a reputation out in “only life”. Who knows. I’m certain these “presentations” are alive and well, happening somewhere (generally, they were presented at some hotel conference room) under a new name.

Morph 2: The Non Fraternization Policy
Morph 3: Drug Use
Morph 4: Recruitment, or “Making New Friends”

by

Chapter 2: How to “Join”a Cult — Repost

midvale-school for giftedThis spring, organizers of a literary event invited me to read a narrative version of Chapter 2, How to “Join” a Cult. I have heard now repeatedly that no one “joins a cult”. People join groups that speak to something in them. Once in these groups, people discover that the presentation doesn’t fit the package. Once in for a time, you might find yourself thinking, “I didn’t sign up for this … ”

Sources tell me that “school” has whittled down the five-meeting recruitment process to three meetings. The overall deception, and manipulation, however, remain the same.

On that note, here is the Chapter 2, How To “Join” a Cult rewrite:

Step-by-Step to Cult Membership for Lost Souls & Recruiters

You’ve always wanted to join a cult, but didn’t know how. You could visit Scientology’s local branch office, but you’d prefer something a little more “private” — the smaller, more secretive, harder to find, cottage-industry cult — like, say, a “secret esoteric mystery school”. This step-by-step guide will refine your vibrations to generate the “magnetic center” and attract the right recruiter to you.

You, on the other hand, are seeking lost souls for your secret cottage-industry cult. It’s challenging — and sometimes dangerous — but your imperative mission to awaken sleeping humanity calls! You must find and save lost souls; fellow soldiers who seek meaning and purpose; those who long to connect to something bigger then themselves; those who will join the effort to safeguard secret, society-saving, esoteric ideas; those who will surrender everything else to this higher purpose until the grave, or senility sets in … whatever happens first … at $350 a month. To learn how to instantly recognize your devotees, bait your line and hook them every time, read on!

 Step 1: Be Broken Heart-ed, Discontented and Constantly Questing:

Rain saturated Boston in spring, 2006. Every day I stepped off the train into the latest deluge. Jeff and I started dating in March. For years we practiced tai chi with the same teacher. One night we joined with classmates to hear music, after which we peeled off from the group and went to the nearest pub. His blarney entertained me and — as was typical of me — I found the storyteller attractive; the dysfunction played out in the typical way with a new twist.

At the time, I was completing final projects and preparing to graduate from a writing program. I was launching a new career — I hoped. The new relationship raised additional hopes — after a unimpressive roster of failed romances, maybe I had found the one. My life was beginning to turn around, I hoped.

But Jeff’s gifted gab starting digressing into random and disconnected thoughts. “Context, Jeff?” I would tease him. “If you want me to know what you’re talking about, context would help.”

One day, he abruptly disappeared and avoided my calls. We were through, I figured. But just as abruptly, he apologized. We were circling Walden Pond — our break up locale — he took my hand and revealed that interactions between us were playing out in his head. The storyteller had been spinning imaginary conversations — he was angry at me for things I had never said, in response to the things he had never told me.

This screaming siren should have sent me scrambling away at warp speed. Nope. With hope and a savior complex as my motivator, I gave our romance a second chance. Predictably, disappearing-act round two began, with the heartwarming addition of Jeff complaints flooding my email inbox. I wrote back: don’t email me. If you’ve something to say, call. The stream accelerated into a relentless river of pressured, cruel and accusatory messages. I blocked him, put pen to paper and wrote four sentences:

Jeff,

I need to end this. Don’t contact me.
Sam has your stuff. If you want it back, call him.

Best,

Esther

I sent the letter; the rain clouds burst. I was drenched inside and out.

Step Two: Magical Grocery-Store Encounter

Remember lost souls are everywhere. Stay awake during your day-to-day comings and goings! Let your “aim” guide your every moment. Your “Aim is your God”! While shopping at Whole Foods, ask yourself who in here is longing for “freedom”. Arm yourself with prepared questions, such as “who do you admire in history?” Strike up a conversation, develop rapport, be positive, but don’t linger! Keep it fast, friendly and upbeat; don’t give your new “friend” time to question – less is more. Say, “I have to run, but I’ve really enjoyed talking to you! We should get together sometime. Can I get your phone number?”

Uncomfortable with the hidden agenda? Remember, you are doing this poor soul-less, sleepwalking slob a favor by introducing him or her to “The Work”. Only you are “awake” enough to sense his/her “magnetic center”. Remember how “The Work improved your life!” Once upon a time, someone was awake enough and bold enough to do this favor for you.

Don’t mention the expectation of lifelong tenure at $350 month; the eternally, exponentially expanding group demands; the alienation from friends and family outside the group. In fact, don’t mention the group. You are simply making a “new friend”. Finally, for your safety, give your target recruit a pre-established answer phone — i.e. a voice mail.

Shortly before Jeff’s email onslaught, I attempted one last conversation.
“If we are going to break up, let’s at least be adult about it; let’s have a summit,” I said. “I’ll pick up some food. Come over and we’ll talk.” He agreed.

On summit night, I shopped at Whole Foods Market. Waiting in the cashier’s line, I ruminated over my failures – 40-years old, temping for $15/hour, “career” aimless and amorphous, another failed relationship, blah, blah, blah. Enveloped in self-pity, I was vaguely aware of the family behind me. A pretty, dark-haired woman, pointed to a magazine cover and said to her daughter, “What to you think of that?” Her daughter looked at the photo — a Zen garden — and rolled her eyes. Then the woman asked me, “What do you think?”

Inside me something said, “What does she want?” I dismissed that thought. “It looks awesome,” I replied, wistfully. The question felt strange, but the garden looked green and peaceful; beautiful and serene – a perfect contrast to my despair, unrest and discontent. I wanted to crawl inside the magazine cover and sit in that garden. Bing! Cult recruitment was off and running.

Lisa, a painter, and her husband, Josh, a writer like me, engaged me in conversation. We shared consternation(s) about squeezing our passions between life’s obligations. I complained about my boring and meaningless temp job. The cashier frantically rang up items over our blather, as the line extended behind us. They briefly pulled me out of my morass, so when Lisa said, “We should get together.” I said, “Great.” We exchanged information and parted ways. I drove home to be blown off by my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

As my relationship unraveled, Lisa left messages persistently and patiently — undeterred by my slow response. I was busy falling apart, after all. I was busy letting Jeff shred my heart. I was busy feeling old and lost and crappy. I was busy weeping with the sky.

One day I was home. The phone rang, I answered. We scheduled a “meeting”.

Step Three: Five meetings

Pursue patiently, until you set up a meeting. In the first two meetings  gathe information — is your potential recruit employed? What is his/her job? How much money does he or she make? Married or single? Does he or she have children? Does he or she long for purpose, question reality — have a “magnetic center”? For “your safety and privacy” refrain from talking about yourself as much as possible.

In meetings three and four, insert “secret” esoteric ideas into conversations; do they spark interest? If yes, tell the new recruit, you want to introduce him/her to a “friend”. Your more experienced colleague will establish whether this recruit is appropriate.  We don’t want just any old lost soul; our recruits must have “magnetic center”. They must be transitioning, or unsatisfied, vulnerable in some way. Oh and, by the way, if said recruit works for law enforcement, military, or the media, your more experienced colleague will reject them.

Lisa and I took walks, drank coffee, wandered museums and met for lunch. The magical new friendship felt like a divine intervention — orchestrated from above, right when I needed some hope. She asked me a lot of questions and listened attentively. I revealed more and more about my discontent with myself, and my life. She told me almost nothing about herself. Generally, I tend to be a listener and ask questions, so the dynamic felt uncomfortable and yet I looked forward to our visits.

One day I said, “I don’t know what it is about you, Lisa. I talk so much about myself.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s different.”

“What about you?” I asked. “How did you meet your husband?”

She shifted in her chair, and looked down. “We met in an acting class. It’s hard to explain.” She changed the subject. It struck me as odd, but I followed her lead. Five years later I would leave “school” and learn that many “schooled” couples “meet in an acting class”.

At the time, though, my need for validation overrode suspicions. Lisa had a gentle presence and a great sense of humor. We laughed a lot and discussed fascinating topics and global mysteries. I wondered about the meaninglessness of my day-to-day existence: another failed relationship; empty temp job; a persistent and unending longing to pursue my songwriting and connect that art form to a passion – grabbing for the brass ring and always missing. She appeared to understand without judgment and won my trust through her patience, kindness and ability to empathize.

“Is this all there is?” I would (stereotypically) wonder our loud. “There has to be more to life.”

At meeting 4, she popped the big question:
“How would you like to meet other, like-minded people? I get together with a group of friends on Tuesday and Thursday nights. We discuss life’s big questions and ponder ideas.”

According to Lisa, people came and went. They laughed a lot. These ideas, she said, provide guidelines on how to live, tools if  you will. Suspicion, curiosity and hope poked at me; but hope took the lead – maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found something that can help me break out of a cycle of constant failings. My self judgment steamrolled over lovely friendships, dysfunctional but loving family, musical and artistic passions and academic degrees from the Harvard Extension School, Lesley University and Hiram College.

This pervasive self doubt, and persistent longing for things that felt unattainable, namely musical and artistic pursuits, made me the perfect target for “school” – a win for the ambitious cult recruiter.

“Sure, why not.” I replied.

She wanted to introduce me to a “friend” and then informed me of the first required deception, a.k.a. “clever insincerity”: “It is very important that you not tell anyone about this. It’s private, just for you.”

The secretiveness should have been a red light. It was a red light. I disregarded it. The seductiveness of “privacy, just for me” outweighed my suspicions; besides that, I trusted her.

Step Four: Meeting Robert — “Just for Me”

At the fifth meeting, introduce the new recruit to Robert. He will make the final call.

Torrents fell in sheets and buckets, again, when I met Lisa and a slightly round, very tan, bearded man named Robert at Pete’s Coffee. I commented on the steady deluge hitting Boston that spring.

Robert replied, “It has been said that raindrops are angel’s tears, and that the angels are crying.”

Wow! I’d been raining all spring — the thought of crying with angels cinched the deal — let the magic begin! As we sipped lattes, Robert expounded on how each human — in purest form — is an “essence” visiting earth from the “starry world” – earth is not home. We journey here, he said, to learn something about an essential weakness. I heard those angel voices rise and saw sunbeams part the dark clouds of my  dirge. Finally! I’ve met others who could explain and understand my lifelong befuddlement and sense of not belonging to this world!

But Robert had moved on — he pontificated on other ideas and I kept asking him, “What do you mean?” He finally said — with a wee bit of exasperation leaking out — “Well, I’m trying to tell you.” On looking back, I see that his entire rap was an introduction and exposition on the “ideas” to come. I was unable to absorb all the new “knowledge”. He was outlining the “school” experience, should I choose to accept the mission.

At one point in this final meeting, Lisa and I shared my post-Hurricane Katrina, disaster relief adventure with Robert. In 2005, I joined with Scientologists and handed out bottled water and gallons of bleach in Mississippi. I’d shared several crazy scenarios with Lisa previously, so we were laughing about something Scientology related. Robert’s face darkened — his voice tightened as he said, “They don’t get it.” Then he stopped himself. He dismissed the conversation abruptly, as though swatting away a fly. We followed his lead.

He asked me – as had Lisa – whether I’d like to meet “like-minded people” and try out a free “five-week experiment” called “school”.

“Does it have another name?” I asked.
“No just ‘school’.” He replied with a smile.
“Where do we meet?” I asked.
“When we start a new class, we’ll let you know.” He replied.
“Is there a cost?” I asked.
“Look, if you decide to continue after the five-week experiment there’s a tuition fee. It really depends on each student,” he said.
“O.k.,” I told him. “I’ll try it. All I can say is it feels right.”
“Great. Just remember that it is critical to not to tell anyone about this. It’s private. Just for you.”

Like Jeff’s quirky and odd behavior, I brushed past the flashing red lights  — the secrecy, or “privacy” as “school” likes to call it, was screaming step away from the cult recruiters, ma’am; it was also seductive and special … “just for me.”

I didn’t tell anyone and I waited for the new class to begin – after all, what could a five-week experiment hurt?

by

Y2K in “School”

Recently a “disgruntled ex-student”, circa 1999, contributed this story to the blog in her comments. It illustrates cult-ish “school” lunacy so beautifully, that I decided to give it blog-post prominence. Even The Christmas Party pales in comparison. I recall December 31st, 1999 — the build-up to Armageddon, culminating into my dullest New Years Eve ever. Read on to learn of “school’s” enlightened preparation for world’s end! I hope you laugh as hard as I did — after all, laughter is the best medicine:

Y2K – Ah yes, we remember it well:

For several years, anyone not in a coma had been conscious of stories on the possible chaos that awaited the world on January 1, 2000. Everyone except Queen Sharon.

In late spring/early summer of 1999 it somehow penetrated her “mind”. I remember the night she deigned to tell her students that she had “become aware” of this “very dangerous thing called Y2K”. We all looked at each other. Not only was everyone in the room “aware”, but most people had recognized that government and business had been working for a couple of years to make sure there were NO large disruptions, if they even happened. Most experts believed that — at worst — computers would simply turn their dates to 1900 and continue to function.

Of course anyone could see that this could cause obvious problems with say, paychecks and shipping dates – so, everyone had been WORKING ON IT – HELLO? Even the cult classic (oops, unintentional pun … sorry!) Office Space, was about a guy, bored with his job – CORRECTING CODE FOR Y2K. And by Summer 2000, Office Space was already OLD.

But She Who Must Be Obeyed had spoken; Bright people who knew better said, “There is a lesson our teacher wants us to understand.” Minor league idiots bought it hook, line and sinker (and by ‘idiots’, I mean people who really, really, by their position and intelligence, should have known better).

For example: a fairly bright woman (so I thought) who made a lot of money in sales, had hysterics when I told her that I was skeptical and started berating me, telling me that global business would stop; society would break down; credit cards wouldn’t process. She finally stopped when I asked her if she didn’t think that credit card and shipping companies hadn’t thought of that and would really, really want to prevent it?

She either actually thought about it, or decided that I was “closed” to my teacher and later in 2000, when I left, and even later, when I was vilified, that must have been a “sign” of my “negativity to school”. I still think it was just common sense. But hey, what do I know? I actually LEFT SCHOOL!!! Can you believe it?

That night, we were ordered to go home immediately and pack an escape bag – it was to include many, many, many things: survivalist style, for each family member, a sleeping bag, down jacket, rain jacket, clothes you could layer, various pants, shoes, socks, flashlights, extra batteries, dried food, water, liquor to trade with devos*, a gun if you had it (again, devos), gold if you had it, jewelry (same), hat, compass – the list went on.

Those who actually packed a bag
a) spent a lot of money.
b) found them too big and too heavy to actually carry.

People who lived in the suburbs were charged with filling their houses with the above, and getting generators. We were “assigned” to different areas and houses. “You go to A’s and you go to J’s and you two go to this one and you five go here and we’ll all meet to fight the zombies.” If you could, you were supposed to get to the Country Retreat at Pawling, so we could “all be together”.

For months this became a school focus: people took archery classes so we could learn to shoot animals and protect ourselves. We had a well-stocked first aid box and a well-stocked liquor supply. Construction was stepped up on the property. We bought food that would keep as a trial – and as a result ate potatoes for months. (They don’t actually keep all that well).

We talked about the impending doom in class and our fears (some of us) for the World To Come. People bought generators. People spent money to do what the queen demanded. For New Year’s we all had to leave the city. We all had to call in and say where we were going to be. In a few cases a number of people ended up at the same home out of town and had little parties – that sounded like fun. I was with non-school friends and called my “school” friends at midnight. I felt very connected, having finally had a decent Christmas party experience.

Nothing happened. Y2K was never mentioned by anyone in “school” again. Eight months later, I was gone with ten percent of our school. So, I guess for corporate headquarters, it was a disaster of sorts, after all.

Footnote:

* Devos – This is a term known to people in little “l” life who read bad science fiction; it means people who have devolved instead of evolved. We hope that if anyone from “school” is taking notes on this, that they report this term to Robert and Sharon for their usage when describing the “disgruntled ex-students”, as in “they are now devolved – devos.” Please remember that you heard it here first and there are copyright usage fees.

by

Happy Independence Day

IMG_1006There’s nothing like spending Independence Day in our nation’s capital and watching the fireworks from the national mall. I have never felt more free in my life.  Here’s to your emancipation, Dear Readers! My you practice your civil right to free speech often.

While in D.C., I attended the International Cultic Studies Association’s conference. Ironically, after all the “help” “school” provided for my work/money/job woes — the “help” that led me down the illustrious path of baby sitting and cleaning houses for $10-$15 an hour — leaving the group solidified my purpose to help ex-cult members, and anyone healing from an abusive relationship, find resources, speak out and heal through the creative arts.

The conference provided so much to share, I barely know where to begin. But my primary takeaway was this:

These destructive mind-control groups are essentially all the same. Like Apple’s marketing tag line, “There’s an app for that”, the cult marketplace offers a veritable potpourri of manipulative groups. Whatever your insecurity, “there’s a cult for that” — whether a pseudo-science-religion, like Scientology, a purely religious-based Christian cult, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, a yoga cult, or an intellectual and philosophical cult built around the teachings of GI Gurjieff  — while (oops) conveniently omitting his name from all class discussions — all of these groups use deception and manipulation to recruit and retain members for the purpose of increasing profits.

They present themselves as one thing — for example, a casual group that gets together twice a week to “discuss ideas” — and omit the cultic details that would send recruits scampering away at warp speed. For example my recruiter conveniently did not mention the unspoken expectation of lifelong membership at $350 a month. The details presented on the surface may differ, lift the hood and the inner workings are exactly the same.

They all speak to some basic emotional need within us — the need to belong, the need for more meaning in life, the need to feel as though we are contributing to the betterment of society, the need for spiritual connection, the need for guidance, the need for direction, etc — and use it as a hook for concealed purposes. The best in you — the most vulnerable parts of you — manipulated to serve some “higher covert aim” of feeding the leadership’s egos and financial coffers.

Here’s the good news: several hundred people from around the world attended this conference; all of them intending to heal and speak out against the odd and disturbing sociological phenomenon — cultic groups who institutionalize and justify a range of abuse. I intend to add my voice to this chorus often and as much as possible. I hope that these resources give you hope and encouragement. Perhaps you will be singing out with us as well.

As I regroup, I will share what I learned from I.C.S.A. here on this blog. Please stay tuned. In the meantime, revel in your “school”-free “only life”! Congratulations for reclaiming your time, your energy, your thoughts, your emotions, your relationships and more! If you’re reading this because you found yourself in “school”, are wondering what the group is, and are breaking “the rules”, congrats for that and please know that the institute is not what it presents itself to be. There are many of us out here that will share our experiences, so feel free to reach out. Break “the rules.” Set yourself free!

by

Present Day “School” Morphing …

Burning in Process

Observation Notebook Burning

By now we disgruntled ex-“students” know that “school” morphs when exposed. Recently some sources have shared transmutations present and past.

Present morph: I have been told that Boston’s satellite branch started a “younger class” this winter. My sources said that it consists of three women, four men, a revolving door of recruits who don’t return, and “older students” who pop in to make the class feel and look more authentic. Sources also tell me that it …

  • …meets Mondays and Thursdays, instead of Tuesdays and Thursdays.
  • …floats to various locations in the Watertown/Cambridge area. Initially it landed at the Hyatt Regency in Cambridge. But two newbies departed after a brief tenure, so the class began floating. They landed somewhere in Watertown, upon last check.
  • … tai chi Michael leads the charge, although other “teachers” join him or rotate through. Robert appears when “students” question the institution to apply careful manipulation and damage control.
  • … AIMS are becoming “commitments”. According to “school” this is because the word “aim” is becoming mechanical and “losing its meaning”. Could it be that the word AIM and the phrase, five-week AIM, are now searchable key words? Inquiring “students” who break “the rules” and Google these keywords/phrases might discover a veritable potpourri of websites and blogs that criticize and expose a con job and destructive cult, “poisoning their experience” and make it difficult for the cult to retain newbies and increase income.
  • … Sustainers are morphing into “the person I work with”. The word is that the “sustainers” themselves requested this change – the “title”, they allegedly said, loses meaning over time. Could it be that the word sustainer is too closely associated with websites and blogs that reveal and criticize this group.

 

Stay tuned for past fabrications that have morphed into “secret esoteric teachings”.

by

About Sustainers …

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain …

Last night, while stuck in an I-95 construction zone, I found myself mulling over sustainers. Recently a contributor confirmed something I have now heard from “disgruntled ex-students”, near and far, past and present. It deserves the spotlight, because it’s such an egregious lie, such a contrived “school”-perpetrated deception. It is also ridiculous, so I can’t wait to make fun of it in that future musical.

Here’s the comment, gleaned from a much longer story that you can read here: “I realized that school was a fake. I had seen sustainer reports by accident, so I knew how teachers knew supposedly secret information. Now I knew that none of them had any kind of advanced insight or knowledge or ‘secret powers’. I used this to temper my life in school the last three years so I could survive.”

Yes folks, it appears that your “private” relationship, those “confidential” conversations, were reported back to the “leadership”. I guess “school” kept a notebook — a dossier if you will — on each and every attendee. Our sustainers, fellow “disgruntled(s), were responsible for keeping us compliant, attending and contributing financially.

Part of retaining membership included reporting on our “progress”. Teachers would then, cleverly and insincerely, bring up private matters in class at key moments — as though psychic, as though they could see and know more because of their “efforts”; because they had been “doing the work longer”.

It brought back a scene in “class”: a “student” was asking for “help”. I can’t remember the context; I do remember that her inquiry was not related to relationships. After careful contemplation the “teacher” offering her guidance tipped his head to one side as though thinking, paused dramatically, then announced, “I sense that you are lonely.” His presentation was so tender, so empathic, that I was suitably impressed.

“Wow! How could M be so tuned in?” I recall thinking. “I consider myself an empathic person and I didn’t pick up on her loneliness!”

Obviously, this moment stayed with me. Perhaps my memory imprinted it because I had briefly experienced transcendence through this higher being. Or I sensed the deceit in his presentation. Maybe some cell in my psyche woke up briefly, allowing awareness of that gnawing feeling that all “school” attendees get —  that sense of “something doesn’t feel right about this.” Most of us dismissed our perceptions, deferring to those “wiser, more evolved teachers.”  For many of us had come to believe and repeat this phrase: “The more evolved ‘teacher’ must understand something that I don’t”

In the past, I have put out a call for any former sustainer to write a guest post about his/her experience.  Perhaps it’s too hard to dreg this up, but if anyone whose been a sustainer could contribute some insight here, I would appreciate it. Perhaps a current “student” will find this blog and recognize the con job. Or perhaps your insight will provide peace to a former student who is still wondering if s/he has left “the source”. Either way, your truth would help to pull back the curtain, expose the wizard, and be of great service to those either seeking information and/or affirmation.

 

 

 

by

The No More Secrets Policy: Truth as Medicine


When I first left “school”, I believed that each “student” had made a personal choice about “joining” and “staying”. I left because I finally saw how my participation was damaging my marriage, but I was still unable to consider that the group, itself, was destructive. Even as I realized that Robert’s claim of “school” as “the source” was delusional, at best, I vowed to keep the silence out of respect for my colleagues; but when I started uncovering “school’s” seedy past and deceptive recruitment and retainment practices, I formulated my new life policy: No More Secrets.

I “broke the rule” of “no internet research”, mostly because my silence and the accompanying isolation were starting to make me insane. The strange, confusing and intense experience I had recently left was playing out in my mind like a movie. I saw myself giving my power away, surrendering my voice and my perceptions over to those who were “more highly evolved”. I saw myself allowing the institution to micromanage personal decisions to my detriment, usurping five precious years of my “only life”, hurting my marriage and other essential relationships through the practice of “clever insincerity”, steering me away from my passions, squashing my true nature and voice– ironically my essence —  and painting me into the prescribed cult identity of helpless, entitled and unemployable Jewish American Princess.

Even though I was no longer in “school”, its “don’t leak the experience” rule had locked me into a strange and invisible cage, still isolating me from the “un-schooled” — i.e. everyone else.  Contact with the “schooled” was also “against the rules”, unless it was via a “school”-sanctioned teacher conversation. Essentially, I had no outlet or resource to process and heal from this bizarre experience. I was strangely and invisibly alienated from everyone, locked into this secret.

My first month out of the cult, and several hundred miles of travel made me realize that I needed to speak out to save my mental health and it was the best decision I’ve ever made. The blog — i.e. breaking the rule of silence — freed me from the damaging psychological, cognitive and emotional prison. The end result is that I have emancipated myself in every way — I have never felt stronger, clearer and more self assured. Every day reminds me that I am free and I live in a state of gratitude, because I can refer back to my “school” days and contrast them to today. The stark difference between life “in school” and life without “the source” begs the question: source of what?

My No More Secrets policy is the key to my emancipation. I posted my story in cyberspace for this reason. With nothing to hide, I am free to tell it to whomever, whenever I feel it best and right. Secrets lock you into an invisible prison. “School” counts on secrecy on all levels. Secrets fuel the operation and keep it going. I have found healing in telling my story, letting go of that burden, and so can you.

You don’t have to take your story to your grave. You don’t have to blast it out to cyberspace either. But tell it to someone; even one trusted person will give you some relief. No more secrets. Secrets are cancerous. They will eat you up inside. Let them go.  Know that when you give voice to your experience, you reclaim your truth and your true identity. Know that the more people who are telling their stories, pulling the curtain on the Wizard, the more exposed this cult will be and less able to perpetrate its twisted version of “evolution”, also known as life long and dependent “students” who will pay $350 every month.

I imagine most of my readership lives in America, although, I have noted visits from various countries in Europe, Africa, the Middle East and even Asia, which is very cool. Regardless of your location, those of us who lived the “school” experience can practice our Freedom of Speech. In the land of the free and home of the brave we have civil rights and we can speak out against that which has proven odious and harmful.

 

 

by

School & Marriage: Repost

will you be my valentine?

Recently I discovered that the formatting on the original posting of School & Marriage got messed up, making it difficult to read. I thought it was worth re-posting. As a student, your marriage is soon be considered an “only life thing”. Therefore it is at risk of being victimized and sabotaged by “school-style evolution”:

I want to talk about “school’s” impact on your significant “unschooled” relationships. I am focusing on marriage primarily because my husband is the person closest to me. I have to come to terms with how my “school” involvement hurt him; but you could really insert any important relationship in to this scenario.

School spins a special brand of “school-induced” denial. Our illustrious leader likens “school” to the “French Revolution”.  A revolutionary does not blow off the mission due to laziness, or aimlessness — an “I don’t feel like going tonight to the super, secret strategy meeting.” or “I’d rather curl up on the couch with my spouse and watch West Wing than discuss ‘universal truths.’”  Come hell or high water, a revolutionary with “sufficient valuation” shows up for this exclusive, mission-critical calling.

Any man will do

If I am working on myself, Any man will do

Attend long enough and you buy into the “I am WORKING on MYSELF!” “I am a soul AWAKENING, in the world of sleep walking men and women!” programming. It translates into: My awakening, due to “school”, benefits my family, my friends, my co-workers, my dog, my fish, my neighbors, their fish, Barack Obama, the Police Department, the cashier at the nearby convenient store, all the customers standing in line with me, etc, etc, etc, because I am radiating fineness! I am a walking light casting shadows on the walls of the cave of darkness! Simply my presence as a woman who is ‘GROWING HER BEING’ will benefit all who come into contact with me.

You find yourself – even when every cell in you would rather stay home watching West Wing and snuggling with your spouse – justifying school’s need for your stellar attendance record and absolute silence and compliance.

I may be exaggerating somewhat (or not), but it happened to me, and my vanity glossed over the holes in the French Revolution argument; after all I was a spiritual revolutionary, a soldier marching off to war with my comrades!  Really, I was driving in rush hour traffic to an old, restored, mill in Billerica, to attend “class”. The French Revolution is over. There are no enemies hiding behind corners waiting to ambush the heretic seeking enlightenment – thus there is no legitimate reason for the urgent attend-every-class-at-all-costs requirement, high security and secretiveness (illegitimate reasons, a plenty, but that’s another chapter).

As a “school” student, your presence at home will decrease exponentially in correspondence with the increasing, exponentially growing, super-secret, mission-critical school demands. Of course the number of secrets required also expands exponentially; for if you make certain “efforts” for “school” (i.e. recruiting new students) you cannot discuss them with those in your “only life”. School calls these efforts “third line of work” and touts them essential to “awaken”, to “grow a soul”, to “evolve”. So not only is your physical presence limited, school cleverly hijacks your emotional and psychological presence.

Gradually, the “secrets” required of you will insert and wedge between you and your spouse. The wedge wiggles back and forth, widening the gap with each new demand. You are emotionally and spiritually distracted, physically taxed and sleep deprived; therefore absent even when your body is home.

So, let’s step back further to get some more perspective. One of the first things Robert tells new students is that “sleeping humanity” has a skewed relationship to time. Everyone is “so busy.” He scoffs at this and says, “If you tell me you don’t have time to do this or that, I won’t believe you.” Thus the seeds of  “school” can dismiss the time you need for your insignificant “only life things” are planted early.

So let’s outline school’s evolving time requirements: as a new “younger student” you disappear on Tuesdays and Thursdays between the hours of 6:30-9 or so. When deemed “ready”, you join with the “older class” which extends to say 9:45, 10:00, sometimes 10:30, 11:00 – after which you “observe the required one hour of silence” to “seal off leaks”. I don’t know about you, but if I were to go home and “observe an hour of silence” there, my husband would find it odd. Tack on another hour. Often times during that hour I would enlighten my spirit at the McDonald’s drive through, because I’d rushed from work to “class” without dinner.

After being in school between three to six months, you graduate from “youngest student” to the “been here long enough” phase. One day while sitting in reverent silence awaiting the day’s lesson, a “teacher” will announce, “ I need to see these people.” S/he will read a list of names, including yours. The anointed will file into another room in silent anticipation and dread. Once there the teacher will say one of three things:

1)    “We’re going to have a party.”

2)     “Robert needs our help to grow the school. You have been chosen to embark on a very special ‘third line of work’ (congratulations!) And it only requires you to go out and make new friends.”

3)    “We’re going to present a lecture/presentation and we need you to ‘invite people’.”

These three items need their own sections to flesh out the amount of “effort” and “work” required to throw a “school party”, or go out and “make new essence friends” without revealing your last name, work, home town, whether you have kids or not, own a dog, floss your teeth daily, etc., or invite friends to a “presentation” that has no title, topic, date or location. Suffice to say that you can expect to see your spouse, and or kids, or your “life” friends far less than you presently do. And guess what – they notice your absence. They feel your absence. And they feel something else — insincerity. You tell a white lie, like I’m going to meet a particular friend for coffee, when in fact you are meeting a potential new recruit, or going to a “school” meeting that falls on a Wednesday. If you know that you are telling a half-truth, or a seemingly innocuous lie, or omitting information, they feel it. The gap between you and your loved one widens some more.

For those readers “not in school”, I can hear the thought, “No shit, Sherlock”. But those of us in (or who were in) need rude awakenings to get this message. Often times we would set “aims” to do something special for our beloved. Does the quality time make up for the quantity of time missed? We begin to believe that we can control our spouse’s disappointment with a special dinner, or trip, or gift. We can’t. When the special gift or event doesn’t work and we ask our “sustainers” or “teachers” why not? We are told that if our “beings were stronger, more evolved,” if our “efforts were more sufficient” then we would soothe the savage beast. We must “work harder on ourselves”. Of course, no body states the obvious: these special and “aim-full” events don’t bring back lost time and don’t sooth the loneliness and worry. The loneliness, the worry and your absence will only increase with each passing year.

Alarms may sound but it often takes screeching sirens to shake us out of our hypnotism-induced stupors. Someone is fired. Someone’s spouse, or sibling, or friend, or children confronts them – “What is this thing you are going to every Tuesday and Thursday night. Are you in some kind of a cult?”

Someone loses his/her marriage.

So let me dial back to the marriages. Guess what, no matter what line you’ve been fed, your spouse is not benefiting, unless you’ve chosen to share some of the real and fine ideas that school does indeed expose one to, albeit in a rather twisted presentation. Of course, you break the code of silence when talking about these “secret ideas” outside of school, unless sanctioned by school – which certainly would never be the case unless you are specifically recruiting a new sheep into the fold. I’ve yet to meet a colleague who recruited a spouse.

I left school in August, and it is now February.  Just shy of seven months and several hundred miles later (my husband and I drove from Massachusetts to South Carolina this August and the miles between provided a number of “Oh my God” moments) I can only conclude that school “aims” to break up marriages. Of course my post-leaving discovery that many students in the “older class” are married to each other, or married to teachers highlights this conclusion. And the further discovery that Queen Sharon – the New York branches leader and Robert’s “teacher” – arranges these marriages and breaks them up at her whim further confirms it.

When I decided to leave school, I didn’t know about “school marriages”. I knew that my marriage, my relationship to my soul mate – which had survived several significant losses already including parents, grandparents, jobs and homes – would not survive school. I knew I was not willing to trade him in for this institution. This realization fell on me, followed by an avalanche of others, the most important one being this:

Robert did me a huge favor when he passed on the instruction TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS (insert Wizard of Oz voice here). It shook me out of my stupor. I thought, “But this is his business. If I have to tell him to ‘mind his own business’ in order to be in school, I can’t be in school.”

Later I discovered that Robert is (of course) married to another teacher and I kept hearing echoes of him saying, “I am trying to put myself in your husband’s shoes.”  When I quit school, we talked on the phone. His voice heavy with disappointment he said, “It’s a terrible thing your husband has done to you.” All theater. It is easy to be “in school” when married to another attendee; you don’t have to explain the unexplainable. There are no lies to tell.

As with so many other ironies that exist behind the hallowed halls, suddenly being available to my marriage made me awaken to it. For the last seven months, simply being home to write grocery lists with him without being exhausted or distracted took on new meaning. My gratitude for the man, our union, and the life we work towards together has only grown deeper, along side the love we have for each other.

A healthy marriage needs time and trust. School strips its students of both. Your time becomes its time. Your voice morphs into a font of school propaganda, allowing it to continue its super, secret, critical mission to keep Sharon and Robert rich, at the expense of your “only life things”. Not only are you “paying for your arising” at $350/month, the interest rate increases exponentially with each passing day.  So my hope, dear reader, is that, if nothing else, you come away from this post knowing this:

Nothing can make up for the time lost, except for time together. Nothing can restore trust but voicing the truth. This time, your time, is far too precious to squander away in “school”. Your truth, told in your voice will ring true, thus restoring trust and providing healing.